Without any direction from me, Kohen gets up off the floor and heads over to the dresser where I keep my old shirts. He grabs an old jersey, one of Jax’s, and sets it on the bed beside me. “I’m going to get us some water while you change for bed, my love.”
I swallow the bile rising up.
He kisses my cheek. “If you want me to go, I understand.”
His words register when he reaches the threshold. “No, please stay,” I whisper to him before he leaves my room.
Kohen returns right when I’m coming out of the bathroom from doing my nightly routine.
“Hey,” I say lamely to fill the silence.
He runs his fingers through my hair. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You take my breath away, Adalynn.”
I rest my head against his chest. “You’re too good to me. I don’t deserve someone like you.”
He tilts my head up. “You deserve anything and everything you want, Adalynn. We belong together, never doubt that.”
I force my lips to turn up into what I hope is a smile at his affectionate words. I wish I loved him and I could say it back, it would be the perfect moment. This is the moment I should realize that I love him, too, and jump into his waiting arms. Sadly, I don’t, at least not yet.
“Can you wake me up when you’re ready to go? I want to swim a few laps before work,” I say when he sets the alarm on his phone.
Kohen nods. Snuggling in behind me, he drapes his arm over my stomach and tugs me close to him.
“I’m glad you’re finally getting back into the water, my love.”
I turn so that I’m facing him, lying my head on his chest. “Thanks.” I press my lips to his bare sculpted chest.
“Addie, time to get up,” someone coos into my ear.
I rub my eyes with the back of my palms before turning over and grunting my response. Nope, way too early.
“There’s a lane somewhere with your name on it,” Satan says again, ignoring that I do not want to get up.
“Huh?”
Kohen kisses my exposed neck. “Someone mentioned they wanted to do a few laps before work. Now time to get up or you won’t get a chance before you have to leave.”
Ah, that’s what he’s talking about. Painfully, I open my eyes. “Just so you know, you remind me of the devil in the morning.”
He bites my neck at my pulse point, making me yelp. He hauls me up so I’m sitting in bed. He’s dressed for work looking like the handsome doctor that he knows he is.
“How are you so excited to be up this early? No, wait, don’t answer that. Let me guess, you’ve always been a morning person?”
He gives me a quick peck on the lips. “Yes, now get up. I have to go or I’ll be late, and I know if you don’t, you’ll fall sleep the instant I leave.”
I want to say I won’t, but let’s be honest, there’s a real good possibility I will do just that. I force myself out of my warm bed that’s calling my name, begging me to stay in for another hour and sleep.
I plant my hands on my hips. “I’m pretty capable of functioning without a babysitter.”
He kisses my pouty lips. “Of course you are, my love.”
“Get to work so I can go workout.”
He gives me a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Once he leaves, I check the time and groan when I see it’s almost four. As in, not even four in the morning yet. Sleep or swim, sleep or swim? I repeat the question over and over again. The need to swim is too powerful.
Ten minutes later, I stretch my cap onto my head and slide my goggles into place. As I do a few calf-raises, I stare at the dark blue tiles at the bottom of the pool. Positioning both feet at the edge, I bend down at the waist, take a deep breath, push off and dive into the water.
My muscles relax into the rhythm that they are so accustomed to, even after all these years. I glide through the water, breathing every seven strokes. Quickly I reach the other side of the pool. My body goes through the motions of a flip-turn. I don’t need to think to swim, never have. Swimming is to me as breathing is to everyone else. I’m meant to be in the water.
As I swim, I stop reflecting about what Kohen said last night, and the inevitable drama between Connor and Harper. I forget about Jax. I focus on my strokes, my breathing, and just let go.
Everything floats away. Everything is silent, it’s just me and the water, no place I’d rather be. I feel more myself than I have in years. I push myself, enjoying the burning of my legs, my arms heavier with each stroke. I push myself even further, I’m sprinting now. I lose count of how many laps I’ve done. When I finally can’t swim any longer, I stop. My arms feel like they’re going to fall off any moment, and my legs feel like they’re made of lead. I miss this sensation of being utterly spent after a workout, and enjoying every second of it.
After a long shower and an omelet, I hail down a taxi. I pull my phone out of my purse.
Me: You. Me. Wine. My place.
Tinkerbell: YES please! Want me to bring the wine?
I’m about to text her back that I already have some, but her reply beats mine. And then she texts again. And again.
Tinkerbell: Oh and what time? I can bring dinner?
Tinkerbell: Actually let’s cook together!
Me: BEST IDEA EVER
After work, I leave my door unlocked so Harper can walk in when she arrives. After changing out of my work clothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank, I wash my make-up off my face and put my hair into a messy bun. I head into the living room to put on girl music. I love listening to music while I cook. I reach the kitchen right when I hear the door opening.
“HERE!”
“In the kitchen!” I set two wine glasses on the counter.
She comes wearing a smirk grasping a wine bottle in each hand. That smirk I know all too well. “No! I will not be hungover at work tomorrow!”
She laughs while she plucks the corkscrew off the counter and opens a bottle.
“I’m serious!”
She hands me a glass. “Relax, we probably won’t even polish one off. The other one is for next time.”
I hold my glass up to toast. “To many more next times.”
“To many more everything.”
I already have everything laid out on the table for pesto pasta and a wedge salad. I’m making the pesto from scratch and she’s cooking everything else. I can tell that she’s making an effort for small talk, anything to keep the conversation away from the elephant in the room. I wait until we’re both two glasses in as I have a feeling we’ll both need it.
“So . . . about the other day . . .”
She finishes the last touches on our meals, hands me my plate and gulps a long drink of her wine.
“Just so you know, I thought you were going to wait until after dinner to bring that up. I should have known better, though. You don’t have the patience for that.” She sets her plate on the marble bar countertop.
I roll my eyes, but don’t disagree. She digs into her pasta and spins the barstool around so that she faces me. I follow her lead.
“Keep in mind it’s not that big of a deal. What did he tell you guys yesterday?”
She doesn’t deny anything as I retell her the colorful story Connor told yesterday. Once I’m finished, I sip the merlot and wait for her to share her side.
She looks anywhere but at me. And in this moment I see the scared woman Connor painted a picture of yesterday. She chews on her bottom lip, and her hands tremble. Her green eyes are vacant. The lively person that I’ve come to love is gone, replaced by a stranger. I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.
“It’s okay, Tinkerbell, you don’t have to tell me.” I use my nickname in hopes to lighten her mood. It works, barely.
“No, it’s okay. It isn’t that big of a deal, honestly. Okay, so that night something happened that, putting it mildly, scared the shit out of me. I shouldn’t have been driving.”
Her hands shake violently, so I clutch them in mine. After a mi
nute or two they stop.
“When I looked in my rearview mirror, I thought I saw someone from my past. I didn’t see Connor’s car, I saw somebody else’s. I panicked and reversed into him and fled.”
She plays with her food in an attempt to gather her thoughts. I have that habit too! This story is like a nightmare. I possess my own demons so I understand seeing something that isn’t really there. I have a gut feeling her demons are more real than mine.
“I sped away as fast as I could. I drove for miles without a destination until I was almost out gas. Surprise, surprise, Connor pulls up behind me. I almost maced him. Thankfully, right before I did, his face registered just in time.”
Man, if she maced Connor that would have made my year! Connor being maced by a chick is something nobody would ever think would happen, and a spectacle that everyone would want to see. Maybe I can persuade her to do it if the chance ever comes again?
Harper continues in a rush, getting her words out so quickly that they jumble together.
“My face was covered in dry tears and mascara. I felt horrible that I slammed into someone’s car and left. Who does that?”
I don’t answer her. I think she’s asking more for herself than for me to answer her.
“I was so scared, I needed to leave, to be by myself. For some unknown reason I knew I could trust him and that he would protect me. Which made me panic even more because I’ve never felt like that before. Stupid, I know.”
“No, not stupid. I know exactly what you mean.”
I can’t fight the sick feeling in my gut that she was in serious shit that night and still is.
“I didn’t want to tell him my real name in case he was working for . . . I mean if he wanted to tell the police. So I threw money at him, the money I was going to use to get a . . . to use for my new place. Yeah, for my new place.”
Okay, so she happens to be the worst liar in the history of the world. There are worse traits than being a lousy liar. It would be cute if I wasn’t dying to know why she had a wad of cash. I also know that she has lived in the same apartment since she’s moved here. I want to ask who she was running from, but I don’t. It’s hard to open up to someone so I won’t push it. Not yet anyways.
I can tell that she is reliving that night instead of sitting at my bar eating dinner. I’ve been forced to relive my past so many times, it’s easy to recognize the signs.
“We haven’t known each other long, but I’m here for you, okay? For whatever you need. You can tell me anything and I will never judge you. Trust me, I am the last person to pass judgement on someone.”
She rises and dumps her still full plate of food in the trash before rinsing it. I finish my last bite and follow her lead of cleaning up.
“I know and thanks! I mean it, I haven’t had a girlfriend since I moved here. Everyone seems so fake here, but that’s kind of the appeal of the city. You can be whoever you want to be here.”
Yeah, I know exactly what she’s talking about. The allure of the city is hard to miss.
“Same here. So friend, are you going to tell me what that money was really for, or what? I mean, come on, let’s be honest, you’re a horrible liar. The worst actually.”
Her hands tremble again. I squeeze them, feeling guiltier and guiltier for pushing her as they continue to shake.
“A gun,” she says simply as if buying a gun is everyday conversation. “An untraceable gun.”
My head whips around to face her so quickly I actually kink my neck. “What?”
She doesn’t look guilty anymore, she looks darker, scary, a complete stranger from the happy-go-lucky Tinkerbell I know and love. “I had to have a gun that couldn’t be traced. Don’t worry, though, everything is fine now.”
Yeah, that sounds convincing.
Chapter Eighteen
I’m busy at work again, but unlike my usual multi-tasking self, I’m finding it exceptionally hard to concentrate. I’m still baffled by Harper’s revelation last night. She wanted to buy a gun. As in, she wanted to shoot someone. Okay, okay she didn’t tell me why she wanted a gun, she changed the subject as quickly as humanly possible, but why else would she need a gun? An untraceable gun to be exact. Did she buy it? I’m losing my mind! I can’t stop seeing her face when she uttered, “a gun.” Out of all the times she couldn’t keep her mouth shut, she chose that time to be quiet. Really? Once again I’m distracted. Hence the reason why I’m skipping lunch the second day in a row.
Shaking my head, I get back to work. Three more hours and I can meet Harper for dinner. I’m excited for a low-key girls’ night. Who knew there was such a thing? I need to get her advice on the whole Kohen-loves-me thing. I could always talk to Liv, but it’s different talking to a friend compared to my therapist. Plus, I know she’s itching for more information on the Lover and Boyfriend front as she likes to call them.
I love how close we’re getting in the short time we’ve known each other. It’s hard to explain, but I feel like I’ve been waiting for a friend like her my whole life. I’ve always been friends with guys, that’s why I’ve never really been able to have many girlfriends.
After work, Harper and I head towards the subway to go to this little pub. We could have taken a cab, but when she found out that I’ve never been on the subway, she was dragging me behind her. It’s not that I have anything against the it, I just hate being confined and in dark places, since the accident.
I will not freak out. I can do this. People ride the subway every day. I notice my hands are quivering. My mantra isn’t working as well as I thought.
As we get closer, she keeps glancing back and asking if I’m okay. Am I okay? That’s gonna be a hard no. I resemble a scared kitten right about now. I’m sweating and I can’t focus on one thing. I’m trying really hard to control my breathing, but even performing that simple task seems impossible.
She links her arm with mine. “Hey, it’s okay, we can take a cab or even walk if you want to get fresh air. We don’t have to do this.”
I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I think it comes out more as a grimace. I go for nonchalance. “No, really, I’m fine. I need to ride the subway eventually.” I didn’t pull it off from the expression on her face.
“I’m sorry, Addie, I didn’t realize you were claustrophobic.”
If only she knew the extent of it.
“No, really, it’s fine. Besides, you can buy me a drink if I make it through this.”
We board the subway without incident. The trip is over before it even started. Way faster than taking a cab at this hour. I wish I wasn’t having a minor heart attack the entire time so that I could’ve enjoyed it. I’ve always wanted to ride it.
At least I didn’t black out from fear, there’s that. I also didn’t get trapped inside my head. That’s both refreshing and sad when I think about it. It’s refreshing to know that I can do something as simple as riding a subway, and sad that this won’t be the last time I have to fear whether I can handle something.
As we saunter into the Irish pub, I can feel waves of energy bouncing off of everyone. Live music flows through the speakers.
“This is amazing!”
She steers me to a nearby table in the center of the action. “I can’t believe you’ve never been here! How have you survived?”
Survived? Interesting choice of words. I focus on the band on the stage in front of us and sway my hips to the uplifting beat.
“I haven’t.” I meant it as a joke, but it rings with more truth than I wanted to give.
Harper has an amazing instinct on when to push for more information. Now is not the time and she doesn’t ask. I’m thankful. She orders for us since she’s a regular. She knows what is best and I’m not that picky. As long as it’s edible, I’ll usually eat it. Besides, when I peer around at the other tables, the food looks mouthwatering. I don’t think there’s a wrong choice here.
After she returns from the bar with a pitcher of beer and two glasses, she asks, “Okay dish, what’s goi
ng on with you and that unbelievably hot doctor?” Her southern accent rings heavy in her voice as she fans herself, making me choke on the sip of beer I just drank.
Luckily me coughing up a lung, maybe even both, buys me enough time to ponder what to say. “Eh, he loves me?”
Her smile slips. “And I’m taking this is a bad thing because?”
I down another swig of beer. “No, it’s not bad. It’s just . . . I don’t know . . . Wrong somehow? I don’t know how I feel. I don’t love him, but maybe in time I can? It’s complicated.”
“Said every girl on earth.” She brushes red bangs out of her face and stares at me for a second as if trying to figure out what to say. “Complicated by the lover, perhaps?”
I glare at my “supposed” friend. “Jax isn’t my lover!”
She gives me a look that is only best described as I’m-so-not-buying-what-you’re-selling. “Yes, and I don’t have red hair or fantastic tits!” she says at the same time our food arrives.
The poor guy. His face reddens. I focus on the plate he sets in front of me. I bite into the sandwich and moan. The thing melts in my mouth. Yum! I take another bite before I even finish my first one. Classy, I know. I could lick my plate, it’s that good.
“So you’ve been seeing the doctor for a few months now. How’s the sex? Obviously decent if you’re keeping him around . . . Wait! Who’s better, him or the lover?”
I choke on my sandwich. I have no idea how to respond. I scan the room in hopes that I will somehow find the answer. Before I can say anything though, she beats me to it.
“Wait, you two haven’t had sex yet?”
“No,” I say hoping she drops it. She doesn’t.
“No? Why not? It’s not like you’re a virgin.”
I blush. I may not be a virgin, but I don’t have much experience since I’ve only slept with one person.
Her mouth falls open. “You’re a virgin!” she says too loudly, right when the band decides to end the song. Making everyone in close proximity able to hear her. Fantastic! Kill me now, please.
Beautifully Shattered (The Beautifully Series Book 1) Page 26